


The Shoe Pinches on the Other Foot

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose sends the Doctor away from danger to protect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shoe Pinches on the Other Foot

The taxi came to a sudden stop in front of a large mansion on Edward Waterson Gardens St. in one of London’s wealthier suburbs. The Doctor hurriedly pressed a wad of money into the driver’s hand, and then stumbled out of the taxi… where he landed straight in a puddle. He winced as water quickly soaked through his trainers.

Gingerly stepping out of the puddle and shaking one foot and then the other, the Doctor glanced at his surroundings before heading towards the police tape. He ducked around a barricade, giving the nearest PC a harried solute before searching for Rose. She was camped out next to a giant Torchwood van, hiding from the drizzling rain under a makeshift tent formed from a ripped tarpaulin. She spoke animatedly on her mobile and clutched a pile of briefing papers to her chest, her gaze fixed on the mansion in front of her. He hurried over.

“Good,” Rose was saying. “I don’t want anything going in or out. That goes for the roof. We know he has access to his own Zeppelin…” She caught sight of the Doctor and faltered. “Jannie? I’ll call you back in five. Get those exits secured. Something’s come up.”

She snapped her mobile shut and frowned. The Doctor grinned at her, feeling rather proud of himself.

“I can trace radio signals,” he explained. “Isn’t that brilliant? I was sure it would take me at least another month of work on the sonic screwdriver, but I was able to tap into Torchwood’s satellite frequencies. It’s like… like using a walkie-talkie on a _massive_ scale. Actually, you should really update your Torchwood servers. They’ll be out of date in—oh, about five years?”

Rose didn’t smile back. “What are you doing here? You said you were staying home today.”

He shrugged. “I was. I did. I just… it sounded like you have a situation.”

“And you thought you’d come investigate,” Rose finished heavily. “That’s… that’s great.”

“Well, yeah.” His own smile began to slip. “Why? What’s wrong?”

She stared at him mutely and then looked away. “You can’t just… just show up in the middle of a Torchwood mission.”

Now it was his turn to stare. “Since when?”

“There are _protocols_ ,” Rose said. “They’re all ready suspicious ‘cos you’re not even registered with us, and now if you’re spying on us…”

“I wasn’t spying!” said the Doctor. “I was checking up on you. Besides, since when have you cared about protocol?”

She tensed, but only said, “It’s my job. One of us has got to make money.”

The Doctor waved that away. “And I happen to be an expert… in whatever field we’re dealing with,” he said, pulling out the psychic paper. “Upper alien lifeform and all that.”

Rose flinched. He blinked at her, beginning to feel hurt. It was more than obvious that she didn’t want him here. That was… well, more than a little unusual. Over the last few months, she’d grown used to him showing up out of the blue when she was on Torchwood missions—at least, that’s what he’d _thought_. She’d certainly never complained before.

“Rose,” he said quietly, “what’s going on? We’ve worked together plenty of times before.”

She swallowed and looked torn, but she still kept her distance from him. “Listen, I’ve just got to do this thing on my own today, yeah? I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Yeah, I am,” Rose said. She turned away from him and ducked out from under the tent. She called over her shoulder, “It’s just a few hours, Doctor. Go… I dunno… add new settings to the sonic screwdriver or something.”

“Add new settings to the sonic screwdriver?” he repeated incredulously. Blimey, he wasn’t five-years-old. But Rose was out of hearing-range, now speaking to the nearest Torchwood grunt. The Doctor sighed and followed her. She couldn’t really expect him to give up so easily.

The rain was beginning to come down harder, and he wiped water out of his eyes, his shoes squeaking against the grass. The Torchwood grunt eyed him wearily as he approached and he saw Rose stiffen before she turned around.

“I _told_ you—”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead he pulled out the sonic screwdriver with one hand and his glasses with the other. “You’re probably possessed,” he said. “There’s this… this sort of alien bacteria that burrows into the vertebrae.” He shuddered. “It’s not fatal, but it can do all sorts of unpleasant things to your moods. _Or_ you’ve accidentally ingested some plasmavoreaos— _nasty_ substance. Now _that_ would be fatal. And contagious. The whole of Torchwood could be infected by now. Thankfully, you lot have me.”

Rose did not look happy with him. His glasses were beginning to fog up from the rain, so he yanked them off before studying the sonic screwdriver. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“There’s nothing,” he said slowly. “You’re completely fine.” He stared at her, suddenly feeling at a complete loss. “You really don’t want me here.”

She held his stare, raindrops sliding down her nose and chin. Then she softened. “Don’t be stupid. I always want you around.”

He smiled tentatively, the knot in his stomach slowly unwinding. “Rose,” he pleaded. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She hesitated, but then said. “All right. Come on.”

She shifted her papers under her arm. Then she took his hand and lead him into the Torchwood van. It was surprisingly spacious inside. Computers lined one wall and on the other side, there was a small kitchen with a stove and a mini fridge. A table sat in the middle of the van, piled high with folders.

Rose dropped his hand and dumped the wet pile of papers on the table. She brushed her wet hair over her shoulder, and then mustered up a smile.

“Tea?”

“Yeah,” said the Doctor. “That’d be good.”

He pulled out a chair at the table and then picked up Rose’s discarded pile of briefing papers. The wet papers clung together, so he peeled them apart carefully. His eyes skimmed over the warning on the cover - **_IMPORTANT: CLASSIFIED_** \- before he pulled it off. The first paper showed a layout of the mansion with its entrances and exits highlighted. The Doctor raised his eyebrows. The mansion had an underground set of passageways and hideouts. Fascinating. It belonged to one Dr John Stanley. Judging by his net worth, he was well off even by this street’s standards.

He moved on to the next paper and froze. It was a picture of a Reptilian Armiphite—or what had once been a Reptilian Armiphite. It looked like it had been tortured and experimented on. Its arms and legs were full of puncture wounds and cuts, and its head was swollen to twice its normal size like it had been pulled apart and stitched back together.

He felt a hot flash of anger pool in his stomach.

Rose plunked a cup of tea down in front of him and then took the seat opposite him. Her tone was grave. “He’s been experimenting on aliens for years,” she said. “Torchwood’s had him flagged forever, but you know how it goes. He was rich. Connected. And it… it was profitable. His experiments helped with medical breakthroughs and new drugs.” She paused. “At least, that’s his excuse for it. But he built this house for the purpose of scavenging and holding alien lifeforms—he keeps them locked up in the basement. He tortures them, does things to them, and keeps them alive as long as possible. It’s not just for business anymore. If it ever was.”

The Doctor dropped the papers, now so angry he was beginning to shake. “How long?”

“Two decades,” Rose whispered. “At least.”

“He’s been torturing people for _two decades_ and no one’s done anything?”

Rose slid her hand across the table and rested it on his. “I know. But we’re gonna stop him, Doctor. That’s why we’re here today. We’ve got the whole building surrounded.”

He nodded and then pinched the bridge of his nose. His mind began to whirl, slowly pushing away the worst of the anger. “How many lifeforms are inside?”

“We picked up about fifteen on our scans—at least ten of them are strong. They might make it.”

“Still,” continued the Doctor, taking a sip of tea, “there’s no guarantee he won’t destroy them once you make your move. Get rid of the evidence, as it were.”

“That’s why we’ve got to proceed carefully.”

He took another sip of tea and picked up the first paper—the layout of the mansion. He fished out his glasses and studied it for a few seconds. “I reckon I can get inside through the east-tunnel and disarm his security system. I might even be able to get them out before you and the rest of Torchwood make your move.”

Rose didn’t respond.

He glanced up. She was sitting stiffly on her chair, and her face was very, very pale. “What is it?” he said.

She shook herself, and when she spoke, her words were measured, “He collects _alien lifeforms_ and does experiments on them. He’s got more political contacts than Dad does. He probably has people inside Torchwood!”

“Right,” said the Doctor. He drained the last of his tea and stood up. “I’ve got to work quickly, then.”

Rose looked incredulous. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying? Doctor, you can’t go in there! He’s got alien scans set up all over his house. He’ll… he’ll…” She faltered and then grabbed at the papers, searching through them before coming across another picture. She held it up for him. He felt bile rise in his throat—it was another Reptilian Armiphite, a female this time. She was naked, strapped to a table, and lying in a pile of her own blood. She was missing every one of her limbs.

He shut his eyes against the images, feeling a wave of dizziness slam into him.

“You can’t honestly expect me to step back and do nothing.”

She let out a noise that sounded like a frustrated scream. “And I am not letting this happen to _you_!”

His eyes snapped open, and he swayed with another wave of dizziness. “What?”

“I keep seeing it,” she whispered, eyes shining with tears. “You… lying there on a table like that after he’s…. done stuff to you.” She shook her head. “No, you’ve got to stay away. We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

His heart was pounding very quickly, and his legs felt shaky. He collapsed back down onto the chair, and rested his elbows on the table. He breathed in heavily. “Rose, I’ve dealt with far worse before.” Privately, he found himself considering getting captured on purpose. He’d just _like_ to have a word with Dr Stanley. “You can’t ask me not to be involved.”

He heard her sigh and she came up beside him. One of her hands slipped into his hair, her fingers scratching behind his ear. Unconsciously, he leaned into her hand, beginning to relax.

“I know that,” she said. And then, “Just… try and stay still, all right?”

“What?” he mumbled, but his tongue felt clumsy and heavy. He tried to turn his head to look at her and couldn’t manage it. He felt himself slumping forward and struggled to stay sitting. “Rose, what’s happening to me?”

“It’s all right,” Rose said. “Just relax, Doctor.”

 _Relax_? How could he possibly relax when Dr Stanley was out there right now, just out of his reach? But his limbs grew heavier, and he slowly found his head lolling down towards the table.

Finally, it hit him. “You drugged me,” he slurred.

Rose fingers stilled in his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

He should probably be angry about that. “Time Lord, Rose,” he said. “Well, part-Time Lord. I just need to suss out what combinations of chemicals you used and then neutralize… neutralize… push them out of my blood stream.”

She almost sounded amused. “You do that.”

“I’m going to,” he mumbled. “Any moment now…”

He slumped down against the table and shut his eyes. A small nap first couldn’t hurt.

***

The Doctor’s eyes snapped open, and he jerked awake. His head was _pounding_. The last thing he remembered was being in the Torchwood van with Rose. The tea—the tea had been poisoned. Rose. Rose had poisoned him.

Wide-awake now, he jumped to his feet and began pacing, studying his surroundings. He was in a small room—there were no windows and the walls were solid concrete. There was one small bed pushed up against the wall and a loo in the corner.

He stopped pacing, and dug through his pockets. Brilliant, his sonic screwdriver was gone. His fingers hit a package and he frowned, pulling it out. It was a package of jelly babies with a post-it note stuck to the top. He recognized Rose’s scrawled handwriting. He pulled off the note and tossed the package of jelly babies onto the bed.

_Sorry about the headache. Drink lots of water. I’ll see you soon._

_Love,  
Rose  
P.S. Be nice to Tim and Roger. They’re good blokes. _

The Doctor crumpled the note in his hand and then dropped it on the floor. Then he strode over to the door and yanked it open. Two armed guards peered at him.

“Ahh, up all ready,” said one of them, a short and stocky bloke with short-cropped hair. “That’s a bit quick, eh Timmy? We were expecting you to be out for at least another half-hour.”

“I heal quickly,” said the Doctor, eyes lingering on the man’s gun. “Roger, I presume?”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Roger, shifting the gun to rest on one shoulder and holding his hand out with his other arm. The Doctor shook it. “Can we get you anything?”

“No,” said the Doctor. He looked around. “Where am I?”

“Secure Torchwood base, sir,” said the other one—Tim, the Doctor figured. He had a messy mange of red hair and a nose dotted with freckles. “Underground bunker. Don’t you worry. You’re very safe down here. Nothing goes in or out. Not on my watch.”

“Right,” said the Doctor. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Roger and Tim watched him with mild interest.

“Are you sure we can’t help you with anything, sir?”

“Just to be clear,” said the Doctor, gesturing towards their guns. “Those are for my protection?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tim promptly.

“We’re under strict orders not to shoot,” said Roger. “You, that is. We’re not to shoot you, sir.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor. “I see. So I’m not trapped here?”

Roger and Tim glanced at each other in bewilderment. The Doctor sighed heavily and then scratched his forehead, thinking. He was as good as a prisoner—at least, he didn’t think Tim and Roger would idly stand back if he made a break for it. He was _fairly_ certain they wouldn’t actually shoot him, but things were unpredictable when guns were involved.

His thoughts drifted to Rose, and a white hot feeling pooled in his stomach. He felt so _helpless_. She was out there right now, maybe fighting for her life, and she’d gone and trapped him in here.

Without saying anything else, he turned and went back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He winced from the bright lights, suddenly reminded of his piercing headache.

There was a sink next to the toilet with a glass resting next to the tap. He stumbled over, fumbling for the glass with one hand and turning the tap with his other. He filled the glass and then brought it to his lips, downing the glass in one gulp.

He braced one hand on the sink. The dizziness passed and he felt a little bit better.

He refilled the glass and then ambled over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and drinking small sips of water. Why _had_ Rose sent him away? Because she didn’t trust him? Because she didn’t think he could handle himself now that he was half-human?

 _She wanted to protect you_ , said a small voice in the back of his head. His fingers curled around the glass in his hand and he took a deep breath. She had no right to make that decision for him.

His eyes fell on the package of jelly babies. Balancing his water glass in one hand, he picked it up and tore it open with his mouth. Then, resting the package against his thigh, he popped a handful into his mouth, chewing forcefully before swallowing.

There was a knock on the door. The Doctor looked up. “Come in!”

The door creaked open and Roger poked his head in. “Fancy a game of Go Fish, sir?” he said, holding up a pack of cards.

“Yeah, all right,” said the Doctor. He held up the package of jelly baby. “Jelly baby?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

***

The Doctor had thought up at least twenty different ways of escaping. Two involved crawling through air ducts, fifteen involved running, and at least twelve involved a direct confrontation with both Roger and Tim.

“Got any twos, sir?” said Roger.

The Doctor grumbled as he handed them over. He was very _nearly_ certain that Roger was cheating. He popped a few more jelly babies in his mouth and shifted uncomfortably.

What _was_ he still doing here? His head no longer hurt, he had several methods of escape, and he _knew_ he could help Rose and her team deactivate Dr Stanley’s torture lab. He repressed a shudder as images of Dr Stanley’s previous experiments flashed through his mind. Humans often showed so little respect for the lives of anything that they didn’t understand or were different from theirs.

He had another flash of memory—this time of slipping a big yellow button around Rose’s neck and standing back as she disappeared. He’d been so prepared to do _anything_ to keep her safe from the void. Even if it meant sending her away forever.

“Any queens?” said Roger.

The Doctor glared and handed two of them over.

“Blink luck, eh?” said Roger as he spread a set of queens out on the ground before him. “Got any threes?”

“Go fish,” said the Doctor with some satisfaction. Roger obliging picked up another card from the deck and the Doctor stared very hard at his own hand, mind whirling. Was Rose inside his mansion right now? She’d said Dr Stanley was highly connected and killing off the Vitex heiress wouldn’t exactly be a smart way of endearing himself to higher-ups. Still, Dr Stanley’s methods—if they could be called that—were ruthless. The Doctor doubted that he’d let anyone get in his way.

Roger cleared his throat. “It’s your turn, sir.”

“What? Right,” said the Doctor. He focused back on his cards. “Got any sixes?”

“Go fish, sir.”

Blimey, he really was terrible at this. He dutifully picked up another card from the deck, and found Roger studying him thoughtfully. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, sir,” said Roger. “It’s just—they said you were intelligent, and yet you’re absolutely rubbish at this game.”

“Oi,” said the Doctor. “It’s a game of chance, you said so yourself! Blind luck!”

“You’ve asked me for sixes your last three turns,” said Roger. “Got something on your mind?”

The Doctor sighed and tossed his cards down on the floor. He leaned back against the bed and popped a few more jelly babies into his mouth.

“I could have escaped an hour ago,” he said. “But I dunno. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’d only slow her down.” He rubbed at his eyes and thought. “But I can’t… I can’t sit here and think about her out there and do _nothing_. I have to go.” He uncrossed his legs and pushed himself to his feet. “I think it would be better for both of us if you didn’t get in the way.”

Roger’s eyes widened and he dropped his own hand of cards on the floor. “Blimey, I’m not shooting the Vitex heiress’s bloke. What sort of stupid person does that?”

“We’re in agreement, then,” said the Doctor. “Brilliant. I’ll just be—”

 _Off_ , he finished silently when Roger rose to his feet and held his gun out to the Doctor. “You’re going to have to take me hostage, sir,” he said. “It’s the only way.”

The Doctor blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Timmy’s a bit trigger happy. New recruit and all. We think it’s the dairy.”

“The dairy?”

“Genetic processing,” said Roger. “Torchwood is looking into it. So we’re resolved, then?”

“About what?” said the Doctor, now eyeing the gun suspiciously. “Hold on, Torchwood’s looking into our dairy products?”

“Top secret, sir,” said Roger. “Though there’s quite a lot on it on the online forums. But you didn’t hear it from me,” he added quickly. “Are you going to take the gun or not?”

“What? No! I am not pointing a gun at you.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I trust you.”

“That’s… that’s not the point,” said the Doctor. He gingerly picked up the gun with two fingers, engaged the safety, and then tossed it over his shoulder.

Roger’s mouth dropped open. “Oi, that’s Torchwood property, that is! You can’t just go throwing it around.”

“Oh, yes I can,” said the Doctor. Dodging around Roger, he moved to the door.

“Sir, you can’t just go out there—you’re not even _armed_!”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

He yanked the door open and froze. Tim was nowhere to be seen, and in his place was a very wet and muddy Rose Tyler.

She mustered up a smile. “Hello.”

*****

He paced around the cell, one hand fisted in his hair. Rose sat on the tiny bed, her hands pressed between her knees. Her hair was matted from the rain and there was a streak of mud on her cheek, but otherwise she seemed unharmed.

He didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or kiss her.

Instead, he stopped in the middle of the room and yanked on his hair. “What happened?” he finally said, ragged voice booming through the room.

Rose flinched. “We arrested him.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor. “Well, good.”

Rose shook her head. “He’s human. It means we can’t just lock him up. He’s got a right to a fair trial and a jury just like everybody else.” She paused. “He’s probably even made bail by now.”

The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away without responding. His eyes roamed restlessly over the walls of the cell, but he barely registered anything in front of him. He was thinking about those photographs—those people that Dr Stanley pulled apart and experimented on, and how Rose wouldn’t even let him help.

“Why?” he finally said. “Why’d you send me away?”

He heard her shifting around, but she didn’t say anything.

“Rose, do you have any idea how _helpless_ I felt? I know I’m not like hi—like how I used to be. But, Rose, it’s still… it’s still me.”

“It’s not that,” she said quietly. “And yeah, I know a thing or two about how helpless you felt.”

He turned back around. Rose stared straight in front of her, posture rigid and unapologetic. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just… it _was_ ,” said the Doctor. “I was trying to keep you safe.”

“So was I!” said Rose, voice rising. She sprung to her feet. “What you’re saying is, only _you_ can make those decisions. I’m not allowed to.”

“No—that’s not—I wasn’t… Rose, he was pulling people live people apart and doing _experiments_ on them! You can’t ask me to sit back and do nothing while you walk into that!”

“Yeah, and what happens when he makes bail, Doctor? ‘Cos of me you’re on the news and in the tabloids all the time! He’s got contacts all over government and inside Torchwood. He’d get to you.” She faltered. “I’m not gonna let him do that.”

“Rose—”

“I _know_ you! You were half-thinking about getting captured on purpose!”

“Well, yeah, but—”

She began pacing, hands fisting at her sides. “Have you even been LISTENING to ANYTHING I’ve been saying?”

“I CAN HANDLE MYSELF!”

She whirled around. “YOU’VE ONLY GOT ONE HEART,” she shouted, “YOU CAN’T KEEP ACTING LIKE—”

“WHAT, A NINE-HUNDRED YEAR OLD TIME LORD?”

“LIKE A RECKLESS IDIOT!”

“I’M NOT A CHILD, ROSE. YOU CAN’T KEEP TREATING ME LIKE ONE!”

Rose flinched and they both realized they were shouting at the same time. The Doctor jumped backwards, eyes widening. He sucked in a pained breath, heart rate pounding in his ears. They stared at each other.

Rose opened her mouth, hesitated for a second, and snapped it shut. Then she sunk back down onto the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping. Neither of them said anything.

The heavy silence almost seemed louder than when they’d been shouting. He took another deep breath and then went over to sit next her. The urge to do _something_ to make things right between them suddenly seemed overwhelming. They hadn’t fought this way since… they _never_ fought this way, he thought.

He was still upset, but the last of his anger began to drain away. His fingers itched to hold hers. From the cautious looks Rose sent him, he reckoned she was feeling something similar.

He spoke first. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Me, too,” she said immediately. “But… I’m not exactly sorry for sending you away. It’s not fair if you get different rules than me.”

He wasn’t sure reminding her that he was a 900-year-old Time Lord would be the best response. “Fair enough.”

She turned to look at him. “Do you really think I treat you like a kid?”

He shrugged and knocked her shoulder with his before pulling back again. “Sometimes. It’s like… like you’re worried that I’ll wander off one day if you’re not keeping me entertained.”

She swallowed, eyes now shining with tears. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He held her gaze. “You’re not going to.”

“Yeah, but—” She brushed furiously at her cheeks and then continued, voice warbling. “You’ve only got one heart now. And it doesn’t mean I think you’re any less than you were—it’s not that, really it’s not. But if you die, that’s it. You can’t keep taking all the same risks that you used to. You have people that need you. I need you.”

He opened his mouth to respond and then thought about it. In all his eagerness to prove to her that he was still the Doctor, he hadn’t stopped to think about what it _really_ meant to have no more regenerations. She was right. Death was the end for him now—there would be no coming back. And he had promised to spend the rest of his life with Rose.

“You still shouldn’t have sent me away.” He paused. “It was hard—not being able to do anything while you were in danger.”

Rose managed a tight smile. “Not fun, is it?”

“Not at all.”

“I kinda understand why you did it, though. Back when we were travelling together,” Rose said. She managed a small smile. “It used to make me so angry. But it’s… it’s hard to think straight when the person you love most is in danger.”

“Yeah.” He reached for her hand, sliding his fingers through hers and pressing their palms together. Rose squeezed his hand back tightly and they sat for a few moments in silence.

“So, what’s going to happen to Dr Stanley now?”

Rose shrugged. “We hand over the evidence to the government and let the lawyers make their case at court.”

“And in the meantime?”

“We keep an eye on him, make sure that he’s not continuing his experiments.”

The Doctor nodded. “I’d like to be involved.” Rose’s grip on his hand tightened, so he said. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I won’t take risks.”

She slowly relaxed. “All right.”

“Yeah?”

She turned to look at him, slow smile curling at her mouth. “Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly Rose was in his arms, her mouth on his. She pushed him back against the bed, and they kissed desperately. One of his hands tangled in her hair before settling at the nape of her neck. She hummed into his mouth, one of her hands tugging impatiently at his tie.

“I hate fighting with you,” she managed between kisses. “Let’s not do it again.”

“Never, ever,” agreed the Doctor, as she started peppering kisses against his chin and neck. “Though I suppose there is one benefit.” One of his hands dipped under her shirt, pressing against her back.

“What’s that?”

“Make-up sex.”

“Oh, we haven’t done that yet!”

“I know!”

They grinned at each other. Then Rose lifted her head. “We should really lock the door.”

“What?” he said. He glanced from her to the door and then shook his head quite seriously. “Rose, it’s much too far away. One of us would have to move.”

“Or _would_ we?” she said. She wiggled against him—a move that was _very_ distracting—and then pulled something out of her back pocket.

“My sonic screwdriver!” he said happily. “I’ve missed it.”

Rose gave him a quick peck on the lips. “What’s the right setting, again?”

“Setting 2A,” he said. “Though they all seem to work on locks, for some reason.”

Rose grinned and then pointed the sonic screwdriver at the door. The screwdriver buzzed to life and the lock clicked firmly into place.

She turned back to him and nuzzled his nose, dropping the sonic screwdriver. He heard it clatter to the floor and then roll under the bed. He made a mental note to pick it up later.

“I love you,” Rose whispered, dropping a kiss on his nose.

“I love you,” he responded.

Her eyes lit up like part of her was still surprised to hear him say it. She kissed him again, tongue sliding against his bottom lip. He found himself reflecting that maybe the secure Torchwood bunker wasn’t so awful after all.


End file.
